Drowning in the Drink
by chokolaj
Summary: He was a killer. It was what he did best. He killed everything that had value in life. And now he was finishing off the greatest target. SHEP WHUMP, my friends, but not a deathfic.


Title: Drowning in the Drink

Author: chokolaj

Summary: He was a killer. It was what he did best. He killed everything that had value in life. And now he was finishing off the greatest target. SHEP WHUMP, my friends, but not a deathfic. (Set in season 5)

Author's Note: This fic was written for kriadydragon via the Secret Santa 2008 Sheppard H/C LJ. Following the fic, you will find the requested prompt. I must warn you that the general feel to this fic is lethargic and depressing. (Sorry!) Happy New Year!

--//--

Shimmers of crystal white flashed across his face. The light carried him briefly back to a time and place that smelled of jasmine. White petals. Prism light. Framed portraits.

He willed the trace of memory away, just as he did every day. Every memory that drudged up a time in his past that was better left in darkness.

It was so easy, so very easy to avoid the truth.

--

Ronon nudged him in the arm. They had arrived at the watering hole. Quite literally a watering hole at that: a ring of smooth stone circled a deep hole carved in the dark soil. Within the hole was a dark precious liquid, slick as oil, but as tantalizing as one's darkest desires.

This was P51-X37. An unremarkable desert planet, quite honestly, with nothing more than a single village that huddled a short distance from the Stargate. What made this desolate planet remarkable, however, was the fact that the people survived through sheer _need _for the liquid in that watering hole.

Upon first exploration, the scientists on Atlantis summed it up to an addiction to a drink ten times stronger than the strongest moonshine found on Earth. One drink could do a Lantean in, whereas one drink led to twenty for the people of this planet. They couldn't seem to get enough of it. They drank it in place of water, for which these pale people seemed to require very little.

The source of the ever-filling watering hole came from a deep underground channel. The Lanteans had yet to study the channel to discover the sources that made up the concoction, as Woolsey had found little reason to further the exploration.

This was the fifth visit for Sheppard. And the fourth for Ronon. Teyla was busy with her family. Rodney was in the midst of "vital" scientific research. Woolsey simply had too much else that required his attention to take notice. No one suspected the repeat visits…not yet anyway.

Faces that were becoming familiar to them peered through the waning light of the day from meager shelters along the path. Ronon stared at each face, noting their drawn features. He looked to Sheppard to see if he had noticed, only to see his friend staring ahead, eyes on the watering hole in the distance. There was a hunger in those dark eyes. One that Ronon had never quite noticed before. In fact, he noted that Sheppard looked eerily similar to the inhabitants of the planet.

Moments later, they were seated upon the smooth stone, gazing into the murky darkness of the liquid within the watering hole. The still surface mirrored their faces, along with the faces of several others seated with them.

Some were chatting, while one man took a long-armed ladle and dipped it with ever so gentleness into the liquid. Small ripples began to oscillate from the ladle as it dipped and scooped.

Sheppard's gaze was transfixed on the ladle, Ronon noticed. As the men around them began to grow more lively by the minute, Sheppard grew as still as the stone upon which they sat.

A clay cup, almost too small for Ronon's thick fingers, passed into his hands. He took a sip then passed it on to Sheppard. It took a moment, but the man finally accepted the cup, sipped, and passed it along, as was custom. And then he returned to staring at the surface. Sheppard would never say a word. Again, as was now custom.

Ronon did not know what the pilot saw in the surface, but he knew better than to interrupt whatever it was that Sheppard was doing on these repeat visits. He sensed something was happening to his friend, but he could do nothing more than provide support.

And so he drank.

--//--

There was a smile on Sheppard's face. Big, bright, and strangely out of place. Ronon's own expression echoed his friend's. They had had enough of the drink for the trip and it was now time to return to Atlantis.

They weren't quite drunk, but close enough. Sheppard, for all intents and purposes, _appeared_ happy. Yet there was sadness underneath it all that Ronon could no longer deny.

"Ronon."

"Yeah?"

"Stop."

"What is it?" Ronon asked, his wary eyes already scanning the rocky plateau they were traveling through. His muscles tensed. Sheppard had stopped a few feet ahead of him.

Sheppard turned to face him. The expression on his face was unreadable. Ronon remained tense. The smiles on each of their faces were barely there now…just a hint of something forced.

"You don't have to do this anymore."

Ronon searched Sheppard's dull eyes, noting how they seemed to waver slightly as if struggling to focus.

"Do what?"

"This."

Ronon waited for further explanation. Sheppard seemed almost too tired to carry on the conversation for much longer. Then he sighed and turned back away. Sheppard's shoulders sagged a fraction and the man continued forward with Ronon quick to follow.

They arrived at the DHD a moment later. As Sheppard dialed their address, he turned to Ronon.

"You can go back without me."

It was like a blow out of nowhere. Ronon hadn't expected this. Wrinkling his brow, searching his instincts for a reason for this change in his friend, Ronon shook his head.

"No way."

Sheppard sighed, scrubbing his face as he punched the final symbol and the Stargate roared to life before them. The flash of light cast blue across Sheppard's face adding to that which the dull afternoon already had. It made the pilot look sickly and hollow.

"What's going on with you? What aren't you telling me?" It was time to press the issue.

"Nothing, Ronon. Absolutely nothing at all. I just…need some time…to myself. I'll be fine here. Go on without me." The pilot tried for a reassuring smile, but the expression failed to reach his dark eyes. "I'll be back before you know it."

Hesitation stalled him. Something didn't feel right. Sheppard was too quiet. Too out of character. Ronon couldn't just leave the man in this state. It would be foolish. He had a distinct nagging feeling that if he left Sheppard alone, it would be the last time he saw the man alive.

Or perhaps it was his nature to think that way.

"I don't think so." Ronon took a step away from the active gate, his eyes daring Sheppard to force the issue.

Something dark passed across Sheppard's eyes and the man's already dismal smile formed into a tight line. Ronon grimaced at how frail Sheppard looked, his posture slumped, his face pale and hallowed. It was like his body was collapsing in on itself.

"Fine. I'll go back with you. But you have to promise me something."

"Sure."

"Next time I want to return, I return alone."

Ronon tried to read behind those darkening eyes but could find nothing familiar. He could not discern the reasoning behind the sudden change in his friend. He vowed then and there that there wouldn't be a next time. Because he wasn't letting Sheppard off Atlantis until the man got some serious help.

Ronon stepped forward, patting Sheppard on the shoulder before advancing on the active gate. He plastered on his most reassuring smile.

"Sure thing…buddy." He waited for Sheppard to nod in acceptance and resisted the urge to pull the man forward to the gate.

"Thanks, Ronon." His gratitude was genuine, but his eyes never left the gate as they headed for it.

A chill of warning crept down Ronon's spine. Something was seriously wrong.

--//--

Panic paralyzed him. There was blood everywhere.

Bang!

He startled out of his reverie. Shaking his mind clear of such torment, Sheppard headed for the door to his room. Another bang confirmed that someone on the other side was rather impatient and demanded to be acknowledged.

He sighed in defeat as he turned on a fake smile. Facing them was getting harder and harder with each passing day.

--//--

Dragging Sheppard to the mess hall was not a duty Rodney had had in mind for the start of the day.

The things he did for friendship.

They took a seat at the far end of the hall, near the entrance. Upon Sheppard's tray was a small red apple. Upon Rodney's tray…two turkey sandwiches, a banana, and a rather large helping of apple pie. The recent addition of fruit to the menu had everyone in a tizzy.

Rodney pretended not to notice the lack of a real meal upon his friend's tray. He instead tried to initiate some conversation. Something he wasn't used to in the presence of a normally obnoxious team leader.

"Zelenka has a crush on one of the new G.I. Janes. She's a whole foot taller than him. And she looks like she could kick his ass. On that thought, she could probably kick all our asses, including Ronon. Teyla, maybe not, but it would definitely be the battle of the century. Not sure where the attraction is…but it seems she likes him too. Maybe we'll see Zelenka off world more often. About time. I could use some time off." He had added the last part in hopes of getting some kind reaction out of Sheppard.

No such luck. The man simply stared at his apple, as if trying to comprehend exactly what it was that was sitting before him. Rodney raised an eyebrow.

"Sheppard…are you even listening to me?" Rodney leaned forward, stuffing a forkful of apple pie into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, watching Sheppard for any kind of reaction.

Not even a blink.

"Hey! Atlantis to Sheppard!" He snapped his fingers in Sheppard's face. Finally, the man looked up. His expression was blank, but his eyes were clouded with conflict. Rodney stilled ever so slightly. Something was off.

"What's with you, Sheppard?"

"Nothing." The man had finally spoken. But his voice was flat. There was no emotion behind his response. Rodney found it difficult to read the man. But when had that ever been easy?

"The apples are real, my friend. Straight from…er…well, Earth. Not that it matters really. They're good. Trust me. If this apple pie has anything on the matter…I'd say…."

"Rodney. Shut up." Sheppard interrupted him. Dark eyes blazed at him from an otherwise emotionless face.

Rodney was stunned into momentary silence. It was only a moment, though.

"What the hell, Sheppard? I'm trying to have a conversation here, but obviously it isn't something you want to be involved in at the moment. Do you want me to leave? Do you want to go shoot some faceless target? Hit some golf balls? Lose to Teyla in another round of whoop ass? Cause I'm not leaving you alone until you spill the beans. If you haven't noticed lately, 'cause trust me, _we_ have…you've been walking around like a zombie, acting like you've lost your puppy. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sheppard squinted his eyes and stared hard at Rodney long enough for Rodney to begin wondering if the man had even comprehended a word he had said. But slowly the wane expression became angered. Rodney leaned back every so slightly, recognizing an outburst waiting to happen.

"You know what's wrong? _This_. Having to sit here and listen to you complain all day. I can't seem to get a moment's peace around here. All I want is to go back to the planet. That's all I want. Where's the harm in that?" Sheppard held his hands out and shrugged his shoulders. His cheeks were growing flushed. Heads began to turn in their direction, noticing the change of tone in Sheppard's rising voice. There was a hint of hysteria in his voice that left Rodney unsettled.

Rodney opened his mouth to respond. Before he could edge in a word, Sheppard stood abruptly.

And just as quickly, his eyes rolled, his knees buckled, and he listed downwards.

Rodney reacted, only he felt like the seconds for him were slowing. Sheppard's already waning face slammed against the edge of the table, splitting skin open, spattering drops of blood in every direction, before his body came to a rest upon the floor. As Sheppard's chair rocked off balance beside his unconscious form, Rodney's own body finally kicked into high gear. He was on his knees beside his friend before anyone else in the room had time to react. He reached with his right hand to feel for a pulse, while his left reached for his radio.

The words in his ear were oddly distant as he counted the erratic pulse beneath his fingers. Sheppard's skin, he noted, was hot and clammy. The heat was radiating off him like a radiator in the dead of winter. Was the man deranged? He _must_ have a fever. Why hadn't he said anything?

The increased noise of heightened activity seemed to hit him with sudden intensity as the med team came racing into the mess hall. Rodney rocked back on his heels as Dr. Keller came into his view, her concerned expression passing from his shocked face to Sheppard's pale one. She had asked him a question – he knew this simply from her expectant expression. But he was too rattled to answer.

A small pool of blood spreading outward from under Sheppard's chin held his attention.

What the _hell_ was going on?

--//--

Familiar faces. Some were filled with pain, others with laughter. The contrast was sharper than the blade of a knife. He saw in his hands that very knife, clean and recently sharpened.

Traces of memories struck at him like shards of glass. Death and destruction…all by his own hands; all could be reasoned from necessity, but _that _no longer mattered.

Time would never fade the pain.

--//--

Watching the colonel sleep reminded Teyla of her son, and a distinct need to protect swelled within her. She felt a special bond with Sheppard and she would not allow anything to break that bond.

She shifted her eyes from Sheppard's bruised jaw and turned her attention back to Dr. Keller. She was explaining to Mr. Woolsey, Rodney and Ronon the damage done from Sheppard's collapse in the mess hall.

"…exhausted both mentally and physically. The concussion is surprisingly minor…though his jaw is going to be sore for quite a while. What concerns me though, is that the scanner shows low levels of dopamine and serotonin but there isn't much I can do to stabilize that without anti-depressants. They aren't exactly something we keep stocked around here."

"You've got to be kidding me. Depression? What the hell does Sheppard have to be depressed about?!" Rodney scoffed. Dr. Keller simply gave him an impatient look.

"Given the facts I just mentioned. And, when he was awake, he seemed lethargic…he didn't really care what had happened or where he was. In fact, he just wanted to sleep. He didn't even act like he was in pain. He should have been, considering I hadn't administered any kind of pain relief at the time. When Carson returns from off-world, we need to determine how best to treat this."

"Major Lorne stopped by earlier in the week with concerns that the colonel had shifted most of his daily duties over to him. It was out of character and Lorne was sure there was something more going on." Woolsey mentioned.

"What brought this on?" Teyla asked.

Dr. Keller began to shrug but stopped when Ronon spoke up.

"He's been off to that planet like he's obsessed. Whatever's in that drink…I'd say that's your answer."

Teyla tilted her head at this while the others shifted their full attention to Ronon. She had been completely unaware of any trips off world for any of them in quite a while. In fact, they had been on a sort of vacation, giving Teyla the time she craved to bond with her son.

"Hmmm…withdrawal _is _a possibility. I'm thinking that's what brought on the fever combined with the fact that he is significantly dehydrated…."

"In short, colonel flyboy is a mess. What else is new?" Rodney interrupted Jennifer.

"Why would John allow himself to deteriorate like this? Why did he not come to us?" Teyla voiced the questions that had been nagging her since the moment she heard of Sheppard's collapse.

"The drink." Ronon supplied, referring to his earlier statement.

"I highly doubt some local moonshine is strong enough to get the colonel this messed up in such a short time. You've only been there once or twice, right? Didn't you two come back just yesterday?" Rodney scoffed at Ronon.

"Fifth time. _Fourth_ for me."

"Oh."

The room fell silent as the five of them peered over at the sleeping form of the pilot.

"Ronon. I suggest you return to that planet, gather enough of that 'drink' for testing. We need to know what we're up against." Woolsey ordered. He turned to leave but stopped midway, facing Ronon once more. "You…didn't _drink _any of it yourself, did you?"

"He drank…so I drank." Ronon stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest as if to challenge where Woolsey was headed with the conversation.

Woolsey chewed his bottom lip in thought for a moment, gave Ronon a sideways glance and shook his head. He then headed out of the infirmary.

"I'll check the database…." Rodney trailed off, obviously annoyed by having to take time out of his busy schedule. He too left, with Ronon following quietly after. There was no sense in sitting around watching Sheppard sleep.

Jennifer smiled at Teyla and headed into the main part of the infirmary to speak with a nurse. Teyla remained behind and turned her attention back to the colonel. She lowered onto the chair beside him and studied his face again.

Her instinct was screaming at her that there was something more to what was going on with Sheppard. She just couldn't figure out what it was. All she could do was stay by Sheppard's side, to support him as best she could, for whatever may lay ahead. She laid a hand over his and squeezed gently. She would help him get through this…they all would.

--//--

Within two days, Sheppard was released from the infirmary on the condition he spend time off and talk with the new psychiatrist on Atlantis. His act must have been pretty convincing for his team to allow him some "alone" time to "process" everything. After all, as the psychiatrist had pointed out: the only one who could truly help him was himself.

Son of a bitch. _Seriously_?

He couldn't believe his luck, really. He felt like he was getting away with some kind of crime. The guilt was building with every step he took further from the infirmary.

On a much more disconcerting note, feelings of shame, guilt, and carelessness were twisting into a tight coil deep within. He could barely keep it at bay…a swelling despair was threatening to swallow him into darkness. Yet the one thing he didn't feel was fear.

He welcomed the darkness…because he knew he deserved it.

It made perfect sense. After all, he was a killer. It was what he did best. He killed everything that had value in life. And now he was finishing off the greatest target: himself.

And that's why he needed to return to that planet — to finish the job.

He glanced up and down the corridor. The few personnel he had passed thus far were preoccupied with chatting to each other.

Ronon had brought back a sample of the "drink" as his team had now referred to it just yesterday. The lab was analyzing it now, but Sheppard wasn't going to give them a chance to make sense of it. He had to get back and he knew of only one way to do it.

Dr. Zelenka was heading off world with a team to collect data on some Ancient thing or another. Sheppard hadn't really paid much attention to the specifics. He knew only that they were taking a Jumper to an excavation site…conveniently a half hour flight from the gate.

Thank goodness for Rodney's ramblings at his bedside the day earlier.

The Jumper bay greeted him with a rush of cool air. All Jumpers were present and accounted for. Something tried to spark deep within him…he barely recognized it as the feeling of excitement he would get before every flight.

He couldn't even drudge up a smile for the reminiscent thought. Was he already dead inside? No…but he would be soon.

Closer now, he could see the Jumper designated for Zelenka's team was already prepped. The back hatch was open. Glancing in every direction, Sheppard saw that he was truly alone. He'd have about an hour to do what he needed.

Stepping inside, he carefully checked the cockpit and eyed the panels all around him. He walked back into the rear compartment. Standing still, he studied the interior. Then, he tested his weight on the metal grating beneath his feet. Finally, he dropped to his knee and wrapped his fingers around the metal grate. Giving it a quick tug, he found the grate would not move. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he gave it another go, flexing and pulling hard. Ronon could do this. So could he. He was determined, after all.

There was a very small space below the grates of the Jumper. The space was normally filled with a cache of drones. Sheppard knew that if he was careful in their removal, he could very easily fit within the compartment. He would have to manipulate the Jumper's controls, of course, to ensure that no one was the wiser.

Going over the plan in his head, he nodded to himself. This was only the first of many moves that could easily go wrong. He'd have to be careful. Once they arrived at the excavation site, he'd have mere minutes.

Finally, the grate gave way. Heaving the heavy grate upward, he rested it against the bench and began to work at the protective casing below. Once through that, he'd gain access to the drone cache.

Wiping his forehead as the sweat began to bead, he blew out another breath and went to work.

--//--

His hands were shaking. He curled his fists as best he could against the tremors, but to no avail. He was growing weaker by the hour. He _needed_ to get to that planet.

The chattering voices from above gave him warning that the Jumper was about to land.

Minutes later the clatter of movement from above ceased. The Jumper was empty. It seemed the scientists didn't listen after all – protocol when there were no military members on a mission was for one scientist to stay behind with the Jumper. Smiling to himself, Sheppard found at least one thing was going right.

Slowly, he curled his shaking fingers around the metal grid above him and pushed against it. Gritting his teeth against the weight, he pushed, extending his already aching muscles beyond their normal strain. Admittedly he was weak, but he hadn't realized how weak until now.

Finally, the grate popped out of place. He pulled himself up, keeping an eye on the opened hatch of the Jumper, the meek daylight spiking the beginning of a headache. Grimacing, he pushed the grate back into place and headed into the cockpit.

His fingers danced across the controls at a slow, unsteady tempo. The Jumper reacted with a warm welcome, humming to life.

"Colonel…Sheppard?" A reluctant and puzzled voice called from behind.

Panic sizzled into his stomach. Sheppard closed his eyes and let out a breath with a sigh. He shook his head lightly and slowly turned, raising his Glock as he did so.

Zelenka stood before him, a data pad in hand, and his mouth hanging open in bemusement. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun pointing in his direction. Confusion flickered across the scientist's face. Then came a hint of fear.

"What…. How did you get here?"

"That doesn't really matter." Sheppard could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, threatening to spill over into his left eye. His finger twitched, but it never slid into the trigger of the gun.

"What is wrong?" Zelenka frowned at him, not appearing to freeze up, but instead, taking a step forward, his arms lowered. The man was sincere in his intentions, but foolishly so.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes for a moment, studying the scientist.

"I have to get back."

"Back? To Atlantis?" Zelenka countered, lowering the data pad onto the seat beside him. He then raised his arms, to show that he meant no harm. Sheppard took a deep breath. He was prepared to do what he had to.

Their eyes locked. One man was frenzied, the other cautious.

"I'm taking the Jumper. You'll be fine on your own for a while. I mean no harm."

Sheppard shook his head once at the last comment, but stopped short. Dizziness was creeping in, threatening to spin his world.

"Where are you planning to go?" Zelenka narrowed his eyes.

"That doesn't matter. As you're well aware, once I activate the gate, you will not be able to contact Atlantis. You should also know that I have programmed the Jumper to keep the gate open three times as long as normal. You won't be able to reach me until it's too late."

Zelenka was stunned into silence.

Sheppard pursed his lips. He didn't want to hurt anybody.

"I'm sorry, Zelenka, I truly am." And the look in his eyes was as true as his word.

"I don't understand. That's Rodney's research. He hadn't even gotten it to work yet. Keeping the wraith from dialing out was one of our top priorities. If you figured it out, why didn't you say something?" Zelenka was perplexed.

"I'm giving you little more than two hours, Zelenka. That's all. After that, I really don't give a damn if you come after me or not." Sheppard concluded, lowering his gun. The gun now pointed at the ground, but Zelenka kept his eyes on Sheppard's.

They remained silent for a moment, struggling to interpret each other's motives.

"Colonel, you are not yourself." Zelenka raised a hand and stole another step forward.

Sheppard shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Zelenka, I really am. But I have to do this."

A sudden explosion of noise echoed throughout the cockpit. Sparks flew above their heads. Zelenka ducked, throwing his arms up to protect his head. Crouched in a protective stance, he lowered his arms, coming face to face with Sheppard's Glock. Smoke rose from the muzzle.

A fierce fire burned in the colonel's eyes. It spooked Zelenka to the core. He found himself slowly backing away.

A chill ran across his spine as he continued to back his way out of the Jumper. Sheppard's eyes smoldered, the darkness settling in. The man was deranged. Plain and simple. There was no reasoning with a deranged man.

Zelenka left the Jumper. He had little choice in the matter. He saw from the corner of his eyes, his fellow scientists running towards his position. He waved them off, all the while, staring down the muzzle of Sheppard's gun as well as his dark glare.

Then the hatch was slowly rising, Sheppard never moving from his defensive stance.

When the hatch had finally come to a close, only then could Zelenka make sense of what was happening. The others came to his side just as the Jumper took off.

"What's going on?!" Someone shouted next to him.

He lowered his arms in defeat, watching as the Jumper took off across the sky.

"We need to contact Atlantis." It was all he could say. His mouth ran dry as the Jumper disappeared on the horizon.

--//--

The world was gray. Even more so than he last remembered.

Twisted spines of wood reached toward the sullen sky, as if begging for moisture. There was nothing much to yearn for here.

Except for one thing.

He had made it.

His feet were dragging.

His heart was stuttering.

His body was twitching.

But by the powers that be, he had made it.

His gun hung loosely in his grip, his sunken eyes focused on the prize ahead.

There was the dismal village with tails of smoke swirling up from crooked chimneys of soot-stained gray stone.

Sheppard was very tired. Soon, he would be able to rest.

--//--

His mind was clouded as the sky above. As he walked the main street, his destination calling to him even though it was out of sight, he did not see the others. They stared at him, mouths hung ajar. They did not think he would return.

But they were glad he did.

Had he been lucid enough, Sheppard would have noticed that slowly, the villagers trickled into a crowd gathering behind, following him.

All he wanted was to drink. He was _parched_. The kind where nothing could perish that agonizing need for water. Except it wasn't water he craved.

He no longer cared about anything. Not the deaths he had caused over a lifetime of killing. Not the recklessness that had tarnished his military career. Not even the lies that had led him to this moment.

He just wanted to drink.

He arrived at the watering hole much sooner than he had expected. Villagers milled in to form a circle, sitting all around the watering hole. Sheppard cared very little on how they had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

The ladle was dipped into the dark surface. There was barely any light to catch a reflection of any kind.

Sheppard found he couldn't look away from the depths of the watering hole. There were whispers here and there that floated across his thoughts. The others were speaking, of what he didn't know. They were probably just talking about another day in the life. He really didn't care. It was just noise.

The cup passed to his hands.

He stared down into its depths. He took a sip, his focus slipping. It didn't really matter what he was seeing anymore. The numbing contents slid down his throat and he slowly handed the cup off to the person beside him. And so was the pattern for another three rounds.

Numbness was spreading across his skin, intertwining with an exhilarating sensation of happiness. His thoughts were nothing more than a buzz now. He really wasn't thinking much at all. It was _intoxicating_. Sheppard smiled. It felt new, smiling. Breathing in deep, he closed his eyes.

But that's when something new happened.

A brunt force slammed against his right side and he felt himself falling to the stone beneath. His head ricocheted off the hard slate. Another brunt force knocked the back of his knee, sending his legs spinning.

Sheppard opened his eyes in alarm. He saw blurs of legs, bare feet, ragged clothing - all crossing his vision in a chaotic dance. Screams met his ears, joining in with the chorus of beats from his racing heart.

Another force slammed across his cheekbone, this time with enough force to split skin, spill blood. The force rocked him to his other side and he had to throw his hands out to protect his face. But his reactions were delayed and he struck rock above his right eye. Warmth trickled down his face, but he couldn't really detect it…he only felt a slight tickle.

Two sets of feet hit him from opposite directions, one near his midsection and the other painfully across his left ankle. Crying out in frustration, Sheppard began to crawl forward. He struggled to track the racing feet stampeding around him. But his vision was off, the world tilting and blurring.

He threw out his hand to gain purchase in order to pull his body forward. A heavy foot clomped down on it before he had a chance to react. A growl of frustration erupted from his lips.

The frenzy of motion around him prevented him from being able to assess what was going on. Screams and shouts of panic filled the air. Heavy smoke veiled the sky, burning his nostrils. Blurs of bare feet continued to pummel his body, pushing him in one direction, then the opposite.

He had to get to a defendable position, assess the situation…figure out what the hell had happened to his peaceful watering hole. He could not tolerate this madness. Anger boiled from within. It was the first real emotion he'd felt in a long time. It felt good.

Growling with rage, Sheppard curled into a protective ball, peering through his arms at the scene around him. The people were moving too fast for him to track. They were running in every direction. There was no order to this madness.

He spotted not three feet from him, the cup, split in half, the contents well soaked into the parched ground by now. A faint urge to crawl towards it and savor the last of the drink called to him. But he had to deny it.

More kicks pummeled his body. He managed to pull himself to his hands and knees and crawl toward a building that faced the watering hole. The soil beneath his fingers was dusty, spurring up a small cloud every time he made contact. The air was hazy from the disturbed soil. It was getting harder to see.

"…broke custom…." Someone shouted nearby.

"…just held it…didn't even drink!" Another screeched.

It dawned on Sheppard then.

Someone had not passed on the cup.

A force much stronger than the others sent him flying toward the building. Sheppard rolled uncontrollably into the side of the building. Shattered debris rained down on him as he made contact. A sharp pain dug into his back, but he barely had time to process it. He gained purchase of the doorframe to his left and pulled himself up. Adrenaline pumped sluggishly through his veins, intermixing with the drink that now saturated his blood.

With a deep breath, Sheppard stood hunched, watching the chaos play out before him with astonishment.

The watering hole was barely visible between the rushing bodies of panicked villagers. They were running in every direction, seemingly without aim. Their eyes were wide with fright, but they did not leave the immediate area. In fact, they appeared to circle the watering hole in a dizzying mass.

All this…for the drink.

The dust in the air tickled his throat. Sheppard coughed and spat, continuing to observe the scene. His mind was only now beginning to clear. He had to get out of here. It wasn't safe here.

It was _insane_ to be here.

_He_ shouldn't be here.

He turned and stumbled out of the chaos, eventually stepping onto the main path of the village abandoned by those now lost to the drink. Sheppard shook his head, trying to clear it. The way was tilting every once in a while. His heart was still stuttering, claiming abuse as he trudged onward. His back ached with a new fierceness he had not noticed before. It sent fiery tendrils of pain shooting down each of his legs, forcing him to the ground more than once. The crumbling ground began to carve into his hands and knees with each consequent fall.

The edge of the village was as far as he got before he fell the final time. The pain was radiating down his back now, his legs beginning to numb. He could no longer walk.

He had to get away.

He would crawl instead.

The dry ground gave way to softer soil that increasingly became saturated. Soon he was sinking into slick mud, pulling himself forward. _Willing_ himself forward.

His mind had shut down. Only his body commanded his will now.

Forward.

--//--

Had Sheppard been paying attention, he would have noticed the mud. The way to the gate had always been dry.

He had strayed from the path.

He was losing blood.

The muscles in his legs were straining yet he could hardly feel them.

He slammed his mud-slicked hand into the mud, a few inches further from his reach. Ooze bubbled out between his fingers. The colors on his outstretched arm were a Monet of red and brown. The pain was a distant memory in his fading mind.

He didn't know why it mattered now, but it did.

He _wanted _to live.

Yet sharp memories slashed at his desire for survival. Sparkling glass. Silver blades. White petals. Deaths shrouded in black.

He could take none of it back – he could never save lost souls. But why did he still carry guilt for the things he had done to lose them?

The drink had fogged his mind. The pain was beginning to clear it.

His arms shook as he pulled himself forward. His knees were no longer pliable and his legs lay still, unable to respond to his commands.

Pull!

NOW!

His other hand, so heavy, stinging from abuse, clawed at the mud another few inches after the other. With a growl that stretched into a scream, Sheppard pulled himself forward.

With everything he had left, he pulled. The strain was of it all made his arms shake. His fingernails were beginning to split and tear. He was growing cold; so cold his fingers wouldn't curl properly anymore. The mud was ice but he could hardly feel it.

Finally, he reached the end of his endurance. He collapsed in the mud, specks flying in every direction.

The drink had never had any taste. It was so easy to fall under its spell. It had warped his mind, and only now could he think clearly for the first time.

How _stupid _could he have been?!

It no longer mattered now. He was paying the price. He exhaled into the mud and closed his eyes.

--//--

Rodney hadn't seen it. Neither had Teyla. Ronon, on the other hand, had been skilled for many years in this sort of thing. He could tell simply by the pattern in the deep mahogany soil that a single spot did not belong. It was a little darker, more reflective in the waning light of day. It was blood.

They tracked the spot until they found another. The ground began to squish at their feet, bubbles of brown erupting underneath their weight. Mud. The further they tracked, the more of a disturbance in the mud they saw. Something had been dragged…or pulled quite a distance into the only place on the entire planet that still contained water. The marsh.

They had reached the planet not long after Zelenka had radioed Atlantis in alarm. When they arrived, they had found Sheppard's Jumper, abandoned near the gate. Luck had been on their side: his plan to keep the gate activated had failed.

Yet they were still one step too far behind.

The village was burning to the ground when they arrived, great black smoke turning day into night. The villagers were nowhere to be found. Everything was eerily silent.

That's when Ronon had spotted the blood trail.

Now, they were in the marsh, following an increasingly faint blood trail. At least the mud still maintained form – it showed them the exact movements Sheppard (or at least they hoped) had made.

"He crawled from this point forward." Ronon pointed with his blaster, kneeling to take a closer look at the trail. Teyla peered over his shoulder.

Rodney searched through the increasingly dense foliage of tall grass, seeing nothing. They all had a sense of urgency; the air was electric with it.

"Do you think he's all right?" Teyla pondered out loud.

"He won't be when we get our hands on him." Rodney muttered, waiting for Ronon to continue tracking.

Ronon stood, and commenced forward, Rodney stepping behind him and then Teyla following to cover them from behind. No sign of the villagers had made them antsy. There had not even been a blip on the life signs detector. And so far, there were only three dots.

Three.

Where the hell was Sheppard?

Ronon pushed through the tall grass, stepping carefully. Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet; his eyes scanning the dull lay of the land for a sign of their friend. Teyla wore a grim expression, her eyes carefully scanning the underbrush. They would not give up until they found him.

"Hey…hey wait!" Rodney sputtered, stopping short. Ronon, several feet ahead, clambered back as Teyla caught up to them.

Rodney held the detector up, pointing in a few directions as if to get a better signal.

There were four dots now.

The three looked at each other with restrained hope. Rodney broke away, stepping forward, his eyes glued to the detector. A smile formed on his face, the others beginning to follow.

"It's him…it has to be. He's up ahead." Rodney began to pick up his pace. He nearly stumbled in the dense grass and felt Ronon's steady hand on his elbow as he carried on.

"Closer!"

They were running at full speed now, the mud slick at their feet, the grass growing thin.

"Any minute now!"

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted from behind.

There was no response.

"He should be right…."

The grass cleared away and they found themselves on the edge of a plateau that stretched flat in every direction. The ground further from the marsh had split and begun to spread apart in a honeycomb pattern as the desert reached out to claim it.

But that was not what stopped them in their tracks.

"…here."

They had found Sheppard.

His body lay a few yards ahead, face down. A white protrusion stuck out at an odd angle from his back.

Shock stalled them only for a moment.

Within seconds, they were at Sheppard's side, feeling for his pulse, wiping away blood and caked mud.

"Sheppard? John?"

They shook his shoulder.

"Hey! Rise and shine sleeping beauty."

There were cuts and bruises all over his body.

"Come on, Shep, don't do this to us."

His breath was light and uneven.

"Wake up!"

Nothing.

The life signs detector did not lie. There was a pulse, but it was faint.

Teyla observed what was a bone protruding from Sheppard's back. It was yellowed with age. Whatever creature it had once been a part of was long a part of the past. Blood stained it near where it pierced Sheppard's clothing and skin.

"We must leave it in." She announced.

"It's too close to his spine." Rodney said, finding his mouth suddenly very dry. He avoided eye contact with the others.

"Let's get him back." Ronon replied.

"Radio Atlantis." Teyla instructed Rodney.

They were all too shocked to really let it sink in. How had this happened? What had Sheppard been thinking by coming back here?

Sheppard exhaled, capturing their attention. It sounded more like a huff. His eyes were fluttering, his face sliding an inch in the mud. Teyla positioned her palm underneath Sheppard's cheek, so that he could breathe easier.

"Sheppard? Can you hear me? Try to open your eyes, please." Teyla tilted her head.

"T…t…la? I…." Sheppard drew in air, but it seemed as though his lungs were barely moving. Teyla lifted his head a little more so that he would not end up breathing in mud.

Rodney knelt down to look into Sheppard's face. His eyes opened just barely.

"Hey. We're going to get you out of here, all right? Just…hang on and all that." Rodney mustered, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole comforting thing. He rubbed his hands nervously on his legs as Ronon patted Sheppard's shoulder lightly in support.

"…numb." A shiver ran through his body and he barely seemed to react to it. Sheppard blinked slowly, his actions lethargic.

Teyla ran her other hand through Sheppard's hair, trying to soothe him.

"We know, buddy. We know. Help's on the way." Ronon reassured him.

If Sheppard had been more alert, he would have seen the fear spreading amongst his team.

--//--

For situations like this, a med team was called to the planet to assist, not to meet them at the gate. Dr. Beckett led the way, his eye on Ronon's form standing tall against the dense grass. They had landed the Jumper just on the other side of the marsh. Close enough to load the colonel when they were ready for him.

Within minutes, Carson and his off-world medical response team were kneeling beside Sheppard. As the med team began to check Sheppard's vitals, Carson turned to his teammates.

In the back of his mind, he noted the raw fear on their faces.

"We, ah, didn't move him. He's been in and out of it. Not really talking much. He's not really bleeding much either. That's good, right?" Rodney was ringing his hands together, beginning to pace in predictable fashion.

Teyla and Ronon stood nearby like sentinels on guard. They watched as the med team set about getting an IV in place and applying pressure bandages around the main injury.

"You found him like this? Did you move him?" Carson asked his attention averted to the protrusion in Sheppard's back. He snapped gloves on, awaiting an answer.

"We found him like this, Carson. He _crawled_ here. Like some animal crawling off to…." Rodney's voice choked off. He shared a look with his teammates before continuing to pace.

"From the look of things," Carson began, leaning in to get a better look at the entry wound. "The bone is in at an odd angle…this could complicate things a bit."

"Shit Carson, you think?" Rodney glared.

Maintaining eye contact, Carson continued on.

"He's in a bad way, I'm not going to lie. You did the right thing in not moving him. He's lost a lot of blood. His vitals are not to my liking. We'll get him back to Atlantis and see if we can't fix him up as good as new."

"He shouldn't have come back here. We should have stopped him." Ronon shook his head, grinding his teeth together in frustration.

"Aye. He's as stubborn as a mule. Do you think you could have prevented him from this? Whatever was in that drink was enough to alter his mind on top of killing plenty of good brain cells." Carson stood to address them all, his voice growing stern. The med team behind him prepped Sheppard, asking their patient questions without ever really receiving a response.

"Dr. Keller analyzed it a second time and discovered that not only was the stuff around 150 proof with no taste, it also acted as a drug. The reason it affected him more than you, Ronon, was the fact that you have a higher metabolism and were able to burn off the affects before they had a chance to affect you. I will say this: the colonel's going to get a good talking to once he's out of surgery."

"He stole a Jumper." Teyla responded, rubbing her arms with discomfort. "I do not think he intended on returning. I do not understand how a drink could make him do this. Did he…did he no longer care for his life?"

"That's what we're going to have to find out, love." Carson gave her a grim smile. He then turned to help the med team lift Sheppard onto a stretcher. They laid him on his stomach, taking care not to jostle the bone, now secured with a generous amount of white gauze.

"Carson." A nurse called him over, her fingers pressed against Sheppard's pale neck.

"He's going into shock…we need to get back to Atlantis _now_." Carson immediately switched into emergency mode.

As if in response, Sheppard began to shake. Minute tremors riveted his body, making it difficult for the med team to keep him steady as they began carrying him toward the awaiting Jumper. Carson kept his hands steady on the protrusion. A nurse held an IV bag in the air. And trailing behind was Sheppard's team, watching as he deteriorated right before their eyes.

Watching like they had for the last few weeks.

--//--

Rodney studied the screen, reading off random words.

"…infection. Hmph, no surprise there. Let's see…ah, of course blood loss lead to shock…. Impalement from unidentified bone _fragment_…that's one hell of a fragment! Dehydration…exhaustion…watch for possible pneumonia. What…no alcohol poisoning? He had enough of that crap in his system to…."

"Rodney! Enough!" Teyla scolded, anger tainting her warning.

"Isn't that supposed to be private?" Ronon commented.

"Well, yes, but…Carson had it on his desk, and seeing as they're still in surgery, I thought it wouldn't hurt to take a look. I was getting impatient. It's been like six hours now. Jennifer is even beginning to ignore me. No updates means taking alternative measures." Rodney reasoned.

"Those are preliminary results Rodney…and I was working on it for Carson. By the way…it's _my_ desk now, remember?" Jennifer interrupted, materializing next to him. She snagged the data pad from Rodney's grasp, giving him a wink as he stared her down.

"Ah, but you haven't denied that you've been ignoring me, see?"

As if to prove the point, Jennifer turned and left the waiting area, her head bowed as she studied the data pad.

"Do not ask." Teyla muttered when Ronon gave her a puzzled look.

The team had been diligent, but their patience was wearing thin. On the other hand, no news was good news.

The door to the main infirmary slid open, revealing a rather exhausted Carson.

The team perked up, meeting him as he stepped into the room.

"Well?" Rodney prompted.

"The colonel sure knows how to complicate a situation." Carson sighed. "As you know, he is covered in scrapes, cuts and bruises. There's a high chance for infection…especially considering the large bone fragment we had to remove. There's significant swelling, as can be expected, around three of his lumbar vertebrae. There were fragments that separated from the main piece of bone that migrated into his liver, while the bone itself knicked the sac protecting his heart. We'll be watching him closely the next twenty-four hours. Complications are expected at this point, and we've placed him on a ventilator to give his lungs a much-needed break. Like I said earlier: he's in a bad way."

A somber mood had settled in the room by the time Carson had finished speaking.

"Is he…will he…he's going to be all right, isn't he?" Rodney took a seat next to Teyla.

Carson pulled up a chair and sat down to face the three.

"I hate to say this, but it's really up to him right now."

His caring blue eyes passed from one teammate to the next, studying them for their reactions.

"But he…." Teyla trailed off, not bothering to finish her thought as she looked down at her hands, fighting back tears.

"He went to that planet to die." Rodney finally said aloud what they were all thinking.

"What makes you think he's going to fight his way through something like this?" Ronon grumbled.

"That, my friends, is what has me worried the most."

The look in Carson's eyes was chilling enough for the others to look away. They remained silent after that. Carson sat with them for a long time.

Jennifer came by later and sat beside Rodney. Eventually even Mr. Woolsey joined them, announcing that the planet had been eliminated from their database. A nurse provided them all with beverages and snacks, though no one really had an appetite.

Eventually both Jennifer and Carson left to check on their most troublesome patient. Mr. Woolsey left to return to his duties. But all the while, the team sat in silence.

For once, they didn't know what to do.

--//--

The fog had finally cleared.

For so long that fog had wrapped around him, keeping him warm, lethargic. Not allowing him to see.

Now he had reclaimed his sight. Only to see the damage that had been done.

--//--

He awoke to humming. Soft and sweet. Faint memories of his mother surfaced, never really clearing.

A smile traced his lips but threatened to crumble as a wall of harsh pain began to assault him. Fire prickled everywhere…though curiously fading near the center of his back. There, he felt nothing more than a slight pressure. He was laying on his right side.

He cracked open an eye, then another, blinking to rid of the haze. Then everything came into focus with crystal clarity.

The humming stopped and Teyla came into his view, smiling at him in relief.

"John? Can you hear me? Are you feeling all right?"

He could feel her warm fingers trailing through his hair. He could smell notes of jasmine as her hair fell over her face.

"No." He eventually managed to whisper, though his throat felt raw and abused. He smiled with his eyes when he noted the fear that seemed to cling to Teyla's actions. She smiled at him but it never reached her eyes. She appeared almost nervous.

"Dr. Beckett and Dr. Keller will be here shortly."

And then it all settled into place. He remembered the planet. The drink. And the agonizing trek to get back to all that he had almost given up.

Son of a bitch.

They all thought he was suicidal.

"Teyla, I…."

"He's awake?" Another voice interrupted his and he could see Carson coming into his view, leaning over to peer into his face with a greeting smile. That, too, failed to reach the eyes.

Shit, how was he going to dig himself out of this one?

"Why don't you inform the others, and take a break, love. I need to talk with John." Carson placed a comforting hand on Teyla's shoulder. She gave him a look, smiled stiffly at John, and left.

Carson took her place on the stool beside Sheppard's bed. There was no longer a smile on his face. The doctor crossed his arms and sighed, chewing his lip before regaining eye contact with him. Sheppard gulped and nearly coughed for the lack of saliva.

"I just wanted to talk with ye before Jennifer got here, son." Carson's piercing blue eyes were hard to avoid.

Sheppard drew in a breath, noting for the first time the nasal cannula wrapped around his face.

"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.

Carson pursed his lips, taking in a deep breath.

"You almost died."

Silence followed.

He didn't really know what to say to that. It had been his intention, after all. Only at the last moments did he regret his actions. And now, when his body was clear of the drink, and his mind clear for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"I know. I…it wasn't…. Carson, I'm not suicidal. I finally realized. Lying there in mud, dying…I finally woke up, you know? I wanted everything again. It was so clear. I didn't exactly give up…but I really had nothing left to give. What will it take to convince you all that I'm aware of what I've done and I regret it?"

Carson took in another deep breath, looking away for only a moment. When he returned John's stare, there was determination in his eyes.

"I understand that you were lost to whatever that drink was, John. What I do not understand is how you allowed yourself to get so far that you no longer cared what happened to you. Where did it all go wrong?"

Sheppard grimaced, not from the dulled pain, but from the memories of his actions.

"I'm human, Carson. There's no answer I can give that will satisfy any of you. I did what I did and now I am paying for it. But for the first time I can think and see clearly. I know what I did was wrong - maybe even unforgivable. It's almost as if…as if I _had_ to go through it, just to see, to understand who I am and what I am here for." Sheppard tried to shift against the growing discomfort, but found his stiff limbs unwilling to cooperate. He'd worry about that later.

He stared at Carson and Carson stared at him. Was there doubt in the doctor's eyes?

"Believe me Carson. I don't want to die."

"Aye." Carson said, seemingly satisfied as he stood. "And you're going to spend the rest of your life proving it."

Sheppard locked eyes with the man and held the look for a long time before nodding his head.

"Yes sir."

--//--

Rehabilitation was a bitch; especially with talk therapy added to the regimen.

Sheppard liked talking about as much as Ronon did.

It took a couple of days after his initial awakening to get it through his teammates' heads that he was truly all right…with time, of course. _And_ their help.

The one thing that had scared the hell out of him, more than anything else, was the fear he saw in their eyes every time they looked at him. He realized the only way to conquer that fear was to get better. He'd have to prove, like he said to Carson, every day of the rest of his life that it was worth fighting for.

At least now he was up to the challenge.

--//--

Ronon's grip on his arm was almost bruising, but it was holding most of his weight. Rodney was on the other side, not holding so much as pulling forward. Teyla stood a few feet in front of them, little Torren clutching both her hands, standing between her legs a little unsteadily. She added words of encouragement where she could.

The scene was surreal…here John was struggling to walk again with the toddler just beginning to master it.

"Come on Sheppard, go any slower and Torren's going to be running circles around you." Rodney grunted next to his ear.

Sheppard heaved out a breath, sweat dripping down his face, neck and back. His legs were shaking badly, the pain distant, thanks to painkillers. But it was still a struggle to get one foot in front of the other. Nerve damage had been extensive enough that he had to regain the muscle memory to walk.

He was determined now. He had always been a fighter, a pilot.

"You can do this, Sheppard." Ronon supplied encouragement.

His left leg shook then gave way. Arms tightened around his, hoisting him up again until his foot found purchase. Blowing out another breath, wiping sweat from his brow, Sheppard pushed forward. It felt like walking through water. Slow and steady, but always a struggle to move forward.

"That's it. Good. See Torren? See how Uncle John does it?" Teyla smiled, bending down to tickle her child. He gave a squeal of delight and promptly fell on his bottom.

Laughter filled the gym.

Sheppard made another step, and promptly stumbled into the next. His team supported him every step of the way.

Finally, they reached their destination and Sheppard was allowed to collapse on the bench. Torren crawled into his lap as his team settled down beside him. The smiles on their faces were genuine, the laughter shining bright in their eyes.

Sheppard smiled.

How or why he could not see it before, he blamed on the drink. _This_ was what made life worth fighting for.

--THE END--

The prompt: _Sheppard, Sheppard whumped, H/C, angst. I'd really love to see Sheppard have some kind of a break down, something that affects him both mentally and physically. _Additional information requested:_ Though it doesn't really matter how the breakdown is handled, I'd love to see some kind of slow deterioration involved, both mentally and physically though specifically physically. Ex. Sheppard's quieter or angrier, eating less and/or sleeping bad, etc. The breakdown putting Sheppard through the wringer, landing him in the infirmary. The team or one of the team being there for him. I'm okay with AUs, but prefer more canon-like fic._

I'm not sure if the fic reads well or anything, as I haven't written in a LONG time, so this was a real struggle to write. I hope I did justice to the prompt.

And yes, I saw the last two episodes, or parts anyway, and have heard about the leaks here and there. All I can say is don't allow yourself to be spoiled. It ruins everything.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
